I wanna get back home to you. Yes, Servitor’s back!
So, normal service resumes. Oh… one small change. You’re probably all only too aware of the inflation that many countries have suffered over the last few years. Everything’s just going up, up, up. Well, I’m afraid Contemplating the Divine is no exception. I’ve tried to hold things as they are for as long as I can, but it’s time to reflect reality, so I regret to have to announce that from now on there will be six images in every post, not five.
I know, I know and I can only apologise. You’re just going to have to cope.
Mistress Sidonia and Lady Sophia Black, in the scene above, both quite wonderful. That’s quite in the sense of ‘very’ not in the sense of ‘just a little’. Why no link to Lady Sophia Black’s website, Twitter feed, Instagram or Only Fans profile you may ask? Because she has retired and the world is a sadder and less beautiful, if also less painful and humiliating, place as a result.
* Although the stereotype is that condoms only come in sizes ‘large’, extra large’, ‘jumbo’ and so on (the point of the feeble joke in the caption if you didn’t get it – you’re welcome) there are actually condom manufacturers who specialise in the, erm… less over-developed male. Brands such as ‘Teenie peenies’, ‘It’s what you do with it that matters’, ‘Just right’ and of course ‘Fun-size’ are all condoms made to fit snugly on even the smallest… well, OK, maybe the second-smallest male out there. They’re quite expensive but the economics of the business are absolutely terrible: most of their clients will buy one or at most two packets in a lifetime, so they need to cover a lot of overhead. Fortunately, the cost of the rubber is very low – less than a fifth as much is used in the ones I buy as in the average-sized condom, they claim, which is environmentally very sound.
** Yeah, Annie. Instructions from Herself.
Yes, it’s time for more of those highly inaccurate (and entirely made-up) reminiscences by the very first contingent of Ladies from the Other World Kingdom. Blatant homage or affectionate rip-off? Or should that be the other way around? You decide. Or don’t, if you’d rather not.
* Apologies – not a new post. For a long time I have been getting 4-5 obviously automated and spammy comments per day, all of them on this post which was published on June 15th. I don’t want to restrict commenting, so I have been deleting them manually. But it’s getting worse and today I got about 30. All on the one post… which is pretty f***ing stupid even for an algorithm.
Some of the generic messages are actually quite funny, given the content of the blog and the post below especially. e.g. “My co-workers think I’m wasting too much time reading this blog, but it gives me so much useful information for my life.” I’d certainly like to have seen the spammer who designed the algorithm spend some time in the OWK
So do stop arguing, hmm? It’s very tiresome.
With thanks to a commenter below, I’ll note that the smiling lady is Mistress Mona Rogers, whose pinned Tweet (X?) reports “it is time to announce my retirement”, alas. I wish her well and hope she still has a great deal to smile about.
Just another one of those captions that became so long it wasn’t really a caption any more so I’m calling it a story.
Your princess? Really, am I? Aww… that’s nice.
Maybe you’d like to hear your princess tell you a story, hmm? Don’t worry: you can keep doing that. Right between the toes: there’s a good boy.
Once upon the time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in far-off Milton Keynes. She was so beautiful and so talented that men from far and wide fell in love with her. Princes, knights, rich merchant bankers… even footslaves so ugly she had to make them wear latex masks, who loved to lick her sweaty toes. They all fell in love with her, but she really didn’t give a flying fuck, as long as they paid her and gave her presents on special occasions.
Like her birthday: that was the specialest occasion of all. The princess hated it if any of her ungrateful and moronic worshippers forgot her birthday. No – don’t stop doing the foot thing, slave. I’ve got something else planned in a moment, but you can keep doing that for now.
So, at the end of one birthday the princess made a little list of all the slaves who hadn’t fucking bothered to give her a present – who couldn’t even extend her the basic courtesy of an email or something. You know: to take, like, one minute out of their day to wish a happy birthday to the lady they claim is the light of their sad little fucked-up lives. And she decided that the next time each of those nasty little ingrates sessioned with her, she’d give them a really hard pain session, that went way beyond their ‘limits’. Like, for example, her pathetic little footslave who was ‘really not into pain, Mistress’: she decided she was going to clamp his nipples and bollocks with tight, tight clamps and attach heavy weights to them, then whip him raw. Maybe finish off with some electric shocks or ball-busting. Or both.
Of course, the princess realized, it would have to be consensual. But the self-centred bastards who’d forgotten her birthday would be given a choice: consent to the pain session the selfish little sods so richly deserved, or never see Mistress and her beautiful feet ever, ever, ever again. Either way, she thought, next birthday she’d have presents from all her slaves: any who didn’t consent would be living sad lonely lives without her and the remaining ones would be too fucking terrified to forget a second time, after the sheer hell she planned to deal out to them.
Now… I want you to help me write the end of the story, slave. Not the very end, that’s “And the princess lived happily ever after.” It’s the bit just before that. What do you think is going to happen?
No, you can stop licking my foot now – maybe that was for the last time, isn’t it exciting? – and I’ll go and get the bondage cross ready, while you have a think.
The part of the princess in this tale was played by the very lovely and delightful Tiffany Naylor, who does indeed hold court in the magical land of Milton Keynes*, where I once encountered her and very lovely and very delightful she was. Naturally, none of the actions of the fictional dominatrix depicted here should be attributed to the real Tiffany Naylor, although I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets cross if her regulars forget her birthday**, as that’s perfectly normal (and normally perfect) dominatrix behaviour.
* For Americans or other foreigners unfamiliar with this place, Milton Keynes is one of the most historic towns in England. You can easily spend several days there, just strolling around the medieval streets, drinking in the scenic beauty of the old town and swapping stories with its charming inhabitants. Wisely, the local authorities have avoided the excess tourism that has damaged the charm of some other historic English locations, like Stratford on Avon, by ensuring there is little to be found on the Internet about the rich history and architecture of this unspoilt gem, but those in the know regard it as being on the must-see list for any visitor seeking to explore England’s historic treasures.
** 3rd of August!
It’s the best kind.
This is the magnificently magnificent Gigi Allens. Who also makes vanilla porn movies – which is a sad waste of a powerful talent, but at least shows us what we are all missing and always shall.
|Scurry scurry scurry…|
|In practice a lot of the psychological elements flow fairly naturally from the pain and from the dread of it,|
|So brave she bought a weekly pass enabling her to see any show she pleases. But watching Mark will be special for her, obviously.|
|This picture in welts was just chance but some dommes take pride in their artistic skill with the whip. My SO likes to do Mondrians on me, for instance. I don’t mind the lines, it’s the areas of uniform flat colour that really sting.|
A happy Cruella shoot, of course, with all three participants enjoying the balmy British summer.
|Ooh! A potential ally. That’s rare: so few women take men’s lib seriously.|
|You can’t put a price on job satisfaction.
|Don’t worry, I’m sure she can’t trace your IP address. Just keep reading Contemplating the Divine… everything’ll be fine.
|He doesn’t need to renew his vows to her, of course. I mean, she’s not going to release him from them, or anything.
|Oh well. No real harm done. You do look a bit like No. 23, actually – I don’t know whether anyone else has ever mentioned that? But then we all look near-identical… hence the numbers, I suppose.